Sin City
by Mystique Monique aka Mina
Summary: Yamato has an interesting affliction in eighteenth century Paris. If any taito/yamachi content, it will appear in later chapters. Chapter 2 Up!!
1. 1750

A/N: Hello again. I have returned with something completely different from my first fic. This was inspired by Anne Rice's 'The Vampire Chronicles'. I've finished 'Interview With the Vampire', The Vampire Lestat' and 'Queen of the Damned' so it's off to 'The Body Thief'. Matt just seemed to remind me of Lestat and because I love Tai so much I flung him in as well, though you may not pick up on it. I say this because I decided to go a whole new route and do away with names! Why bother?! Anyway 'the boy' thing is not a reference to Interview, which I so do not own. DUH!!   
Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Vampire Chronicles' they are purely Anne Rice's. I also do not own Digimon or even Paris for that matter.  
  
Sin City  
1750  
  
The heels of His Italian made shoes tapped upon the rough stone pavement as He made His way briskly through the rapidly darkening streets. He could have moved silently, had He chosen to, but the sound provided Him with an extraordinary feeling of vibrancy. Such simple pleasures. Hands clasped behind Him, straight as an arrow, He searched almost effortlessly. His thick golden tresses seemed to shine faintly with some unearthly glow. Outfitted in blue crushed velvet, He strode through the streets, the perfect gentleman. That was until you considered the face. While the rest provided suitable ruse for the human deceit, the face presented the real story. Long and narrow it was frightfully pale and devoid of all expression. The lips were drained and set in a firm straight line. But, the eyes...the eyes were special. The brilliant blue was near blinding. The glint, the mischief...the hunger, yes, the eyes told all.  
  
Paris at midnight burned with excitement. The city was alive with frivolity and passion. The city of sin. Had it ever been called that? Should have. It's people were lovers who fueled the nights with their delights. Paris was magnifique! And no, not L'Arc de Triumphe or the Tour d'Effiel, but the real Paris, the one that belonged to it's lovers and them to it. The smell of the city was intoxicating, musky mix of sweet, sweat and death. Oh yes, there was death. People lay dead and decayed in the streets. You walked by, there was nothing you could do. Such was the glory of Paris, the city of sin.  
  
He tossed the body carelessly to the ground. He hadn't felt playful tonight so there had been no teasing or tantalising. He had simply swooped down and closed upon the poor unsuspecting one. A few minutes and it was over, but the impending euphoria lasted much longer. He gazed at the mangled form. He had been dreadfully rough and it lay broken and twisted before Him. Would He ever grow tired of it, stop relishing the feel of the kill? Maybe...maybe not. He was a monster, deceiving all with the young and handsome face. They never saw it coming.  
  
Warm and satiated, it was time to enjoy the night. There were endless bars and brothels to chose from. He would sit alone quietly observing, engrossed in the lives and excitement of the patrons. It was intensely enjoyable for Him, especially when the sight and scent of their essence became near maddening and He fought not to clamp onto a flushed cheek as the 'ladies of the night' blushed while advertising themselves to the rowdy men of the establishment. Such sin, such bravery, such blatant disregard, He loved it.  
  
At some point or other, His eyes settled upon a young man tucked away in a corner all alone, much like Himself. His eyes were downcast as he nursed his drink, the long brown locks falling delicately over his eyes. These were dark and soulful, yet possessing an innocent radiance that intrigued the Dark One immediately. Such beauty was not to be taken for grantd and the one with the prenatal glow had no intention of doing so. He loved the young ones, the ones so much like Himself before... before this. They possessed the sweetest nectar. To watch their eyes fill with pain and terror, as realisation dawned slowly upon them, was one of His greatest thrills.  
  
The young one stepped out into the cool night air and began a leisurely stroll. And so they continued for sometime, the Dark One moving closely behind. Finally, He fell into step with the other who glanced at Him for a second before continuing on his way. They walked in silence, neither seemingly taking any notice of the other. Then suddenly, He stopped and pulled off His gloves with a faint smile. He reached out and grasped the young man whose eyes grew shocked and huge. He knew His hands were freezing. The cold, clammy hands of death, they say. The brunette tried to yank himself away but the Dark One only pulled him closer. The young one's face was filled with a vague terror as he stared anxiously into the eyes of the man holding him captive. He brought His hand to the boy's cheek and stroked it softly. Slowly, the younger one relaxed and found himself pulled into an embrace. The Dark One's lips brushed gently across his neck and the young one reached his arms aroung the strong shoulders. The Dark One pressed Himself to the boy and tore the flesh with His teeth. Brunette moaned in pain and ecstasty as they stood entwined. The air was still and the night silent as the Dead One took what the other had to offer.  
  
The arms fell limp from around His frame. He held the body away from Him. The skin was a sickly pale colour and the head lolled to the side as if the neck had been broken. The Dark One almost smiled as He thought how simple a task that would have been, but He was feeling generous and there had been no urge to destroy the boy. Not when he had been so responsive. The young one gave a whimper. There was life in him yet. The Dark One slit His wrist and dripped the elixir onto the two tiny puncture wounds which vanished almost immediately. Always conceal the kill signature. He gently placed the body on the ground and turned to leave. But before He could He heard a quiet "Qui etes vous?". The boy seemed lost as he tried to focus, but his eyes seemed to have glazed over. The end was rapidly approaching. The Dark One pondered a moment, He never revealed His true identity. "Yamato.", He breathed. It wouldn't matter, death was a mask no secret could escape.  
  
  
A/N: Well I have not decided if I really like it or not. But it seemed like an interesting idea. I only hope the same thing doesn't already exist, and if it does, sorry, I didn't know. I don't remember much french so there could have been incorrect sentence construction. Did the young one die? What else is in store for the Dark One? Should I continue, or stick it up my ass?! You tell me. REVIEW!!! COMMENT! Please. Just write something, even 'hello' to let me know ppl are actually reading it. 


	2. 1754

Yes, believe it or not, I am finally continuing this story. Thank you to those of you who reviewed (few and far between as you were) it was greatly appreciated. I hope I don't disappoint, but as I don't even know if anyone will read it, the anxiety is not so bad.   
  
Disclaimer: We are all well aware that I own nothing, especially not Digimon.  
  
Sin City  
1754  
  
The dancing blue eyes took in everything around him. He had a penchant for being observant. The night pulsated with possibility. He had fed well just some hours ago and he glided along with no real destination in mind. There was laughter all around him, and he gazed at the faces of the city's people. Young, old, smooth, wrinkled, light, dark. They were all beautiful to him. Each so alive they made his soul ache. Yes, even through the harrowing deeds he had done he still had a soul. Or so he liked to believe. But that was all it came down to in the end wasn't it? As long as you believe you have your soul no one can ever take it away.   
  
Some time later his sights fell upon a young man of about twenty years old. A glimmer of odd recognition lit within the Dark One. He often remembered faces as the area was a frequent haunt of his, but there was something different about this young man. He searched within his own mind until he hit upon the reason. His name. This one whom he had left for dead knew his name. Yamato moved closer to watch the man. He walked aimlessly beside a young woman. In fact she was scarcely even that. Same brown hair and playful, childish features. Sister. She spoke quietly, only now and then interrupted by her brother's loud and boisterous laughing.   
  
The Dark One watched the pair intently. He had focused upon the brother and found next to no memory of their encounter within him. He had been so different then. Quiet and unimposing, very unlike the euphoric self he now appeared to be. Yet Yamato found himself more drawn to the man than before. He had grown out of his childish innocence and hang-ups into a strapping young man ready to face the world with force. Yes, he was very intriguing. He remembered the soulful look in those brown orbs, the fear and anxiety. He relished the images. It had been so magnificent. He wanted to see more, wanted to see pain, sorrow and anguish. He wanted to play, he wanted to torture, and as he looked at the sister he knew exactly what he would do.   
  
Unobtrusively, he followed the couple through the streets until they came to a tiny hovel stuck at the end of a darkened path. The place was dark, dank, and depressing. The paint had almost completely peeled off, the windows were boarded up and the shutters hung off their perches at odd angles. Pitiful. He found a spot on a window and wiped it clean glancing disgustedly at the grime that now soiled his silk lace shirt. Inside was not much better, however, the pair seemed perfectly happy as they were. They settled down with cups of coffee and started up a conversation. Yamato listened intently, relishing all the information about his dark haired lover's life. He was to be married soon and was apparently completely in love. Yamato filed that away for later, as he observed the Young One's beaming face he knew he could have some fun with her too. However, now, the focus was on the sister. It was quite some time before the brother left, and the Dark One had to restrain himself from following the strong musky scent of the man's sweat. That would come in good time, in fact, the wait would only make the experience that more satisfying. Now it was time for the sister.   
  
The Dark One waited until she was in bed before he let himself in. A rather simple task once enough concentration was applied. He wasted no time and knelt immediately by her side. He stroked her soft hair and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Kisses were trailed down the slender throat and his tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her neck tasting her essence. The girl murmured quietly and shifted her position, unconsciously inclining herself toward him. Pleased with her reaction he continued gently, pulling at strings that held the top of her nightgown and watching as they fell exposing her small, yet supple breasts. Gods, he wanted her, to feel her writhe beneath him, to hear her moan with pleasure... to witness the life seeping slowly out of her. He trailed the breasts slowly massaging each until he saw her lids flutter. He took the opportunity to mount her and kiss each eyelid. When he had finished his ministrations she gazed at him in mild confusion. He responded by crushing his lips against hers. His tongue explored the hot wet cavity as his hands removed the remainder of her clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the sharp little knives pierced her skin. He savored the taste as the images came.   
  
Rather boring girl, really, except for the brother. He was special, he knew the secret.  
"Yamato."  
The Dark One nearly choked. He released the girl and peered into her eyes. How could she have known? Her brother, himself, had forgotten. He was furious. He shook her violently, demanding to know what she knew of him. She stared at him defiantly and in her mind a single word formed, 'Demon.'   
He ripped open her throat; grasping her hair so tightly it separated from her head leaving bloody tendrils in his hold. She cried out in terror, which only fueled his excitement. He wallowed in the gushing fountain lapping greedily, as she began crying softly. Her eyes pleaded with him.   
"Please." She whimpered in desperation. He stopped and the blood flow slowed due to her calming heart. All was silent as they gazed into each other. He leaned forward kissing her warm lips before he reached out his hand and tore out her heart.  
  
  
A/N There you have it. Hikari fans do not kill me, I love Kari but that's just the way the story went. I don't know when the next part will be up, cause if the reviews for part one are any indication people won't be running me down for it left right and center. Review though, I might continue sooner if your review is nice enough, even if it is the only one. 


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